


Concealed

by Abyssia



Category: Ghost Hunt
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssia/pseuds/Abyssia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always knew that there was something beyond all her anger and arrogance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concealed

"Y'know Ayako, you don't need to wear so much make-up." Houshou Takigawa said off-handedly to his colleague. This Woman he saw so often was a mystery to him, as much as he wanted to believe she was just a stuck-up, shallow, calloused woman; if working as an exorcist taught him anything, it was that nothing could be taken at face value.  
"And what business is it of yours?" She said perhaps a tad roughly while slamming her compact shut. Her eyes squeezing shut. She whipped around, a hand on her hip, glaring at the renegade Monk with a familiar intensity. She knew he wasn't stupid enough to take what she did at face value. And that knowledge made her uncomfortable.  
She remembered far to well what happened the last time she let a man get too close to her.  
It's not that she thought Monk was anything like that man but, everything that bastard had ever said to her had left permanent scars. Instilling fears that constantly pulled her down and whispered in her ear.  
Somehow it even made her fear the concerned yet serene look in Takigawa's eyes. A light brown hue that crossed her mind far too often to be healthy.  
She huffed indignantly, striding past him to the door. They and their other colleagues had just finished a case, perhaps the last one together. They were all going to just go home to their normal lives.  
Everything would have been fine if he had just let her leave like normal.  
"Ayako, wait." He grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks.  
The way he freely said her first name- a right he never truly attained, yet flaunted. It's not like she got offended anymore, because he seemed to always say her name with care. He respected the intimacy that came with it. Perhaps saying he wanted to attain it from day one.  
The thought pricked in her mind that she had never once called him by his first name.  
"What is it, Takigawa?" She was calm. She could only be "normal" for so long.  
"It's getting dark out. A lady shouldn't go home alone."  
She cracked a small dark smile. "It's fine Takigawa. I'll just take the train home like I always do."  
"You're going in the same direction as me. Come on, I'll drive you." His low, calming voice, something that helped her stay calm in the many horrifying situations they and their friends had always found themselves in; but of course she'd never admit it to him.  
"It's not like it makes any difference to me." She said as indifferently as she could.  
"Of course it does!" She could hear the grin in his voice. "You're saving money from the train fare! That makes at least a little difference." Suddenly his hand released her wrist, only for his long fingers to interlace with her own.  
I definitely can't look at him now.  
"C'mon Ayako!" He stood beside her, leaning down with a bright smile. "You need a little pick-me-up! Where do you want to go?"  
"E-excuse me?!" Ayako sputtered. She couldn't suppress the blush anymore.  
"You heard me." He strode forward. Gently urging her forward. She easily fell into step with him. Leaving the deserted office behind them. Ayako still found herself speechless. Monk was always doing things like this, but she found it difficult to accept it in her heart. A small voice in her head kept whispering.  
"A slut like you doesn't deserve kindness"  
"Hey, Ayako?" She realised that they had stopped, Monk's face inches from hers, his gaze filled with worry. "You okay? You don't look too good." She slapped away the hand that endeavoured to check for a fever. It was too much of cliché.  
"I'm fine." She grunted. Jerking him forward by their still connected hands. "I want Vietnamese food."  
"Now there's the Ayako I'm used to!" He chuckled. Taking only one long step to walk beside her. Their height difference putting Ayako's head level with his neck. Easy enough to avoid his eyes from here.  
Neither of them decided to comment on how hard she was gripping Monk's hand. His thoughts dizzy with trying to deduce whether it was the oh-so-common anger, are some other emotion.  
He was starting to believe the latter.

* * *

  
The air inside Monk’s car felt incredibly too close for her liking. That could have been attributed to her rich upbringing, along with large cars and chauffeurs. But no, she’d been in Monk’s car before, and there had been three other people with them. Why was is different now? Just because they were alone?  
“So, do you have a place in mind?”  
“...Hm?” Ayako replied a little too suddenly.  
He paused. Surveying her face. For that moment, it was devoid of the normal attitude. She was calmer, more vulnerable here.  
“I asked, if you knew where you wanted to go.” He repeated with difficulty. Momentarily distracted with how the street-lamps danced in her deep-maroon eyes, turning them a rosy shade of gold.  
“Not really. I just remember my dad taking me to a little place down town when I was young. I know that’s not very specific. But I don’t expect you to be able to find it.”  
“Yeah, I just asked because I have somewhere in mind.” He turned back towards the road, starting up the pitifully small car.  
Ayako sighed. It had been a long day. And she was really grateful to spend this time with Monk. She felt her defences dropping. Something that scared more than it pleased her. Monk had turned on the old tape player as they left the office behind them. He concentrated on driving, while humming clunkily along to the music. It was definitely American, a band she probably should recognise.  
“You know this group?” Monk asked.  
“No. My parents didn’t let me listen to any rock-and-roll.”  
“Really? No way!” He chuckled. “So I guess we’re the same in that regard.”  
“Well, it wasn’t for religious reasons. They were just keen on me being the perfect young lady...”  
“Really? Your parents didn’t practice Shinto?”  
“No, not at all. My mother tried to get as far away from that lifestyle as she could. My great aunt was a Shrine Maiden though. She was the one who taught me. The only one who accepted my abilities instead of trying to act like they weren't even there.”  
“Hmm. That actually makes a lot of sense.” He said with a light laugh.  
“And what hell’s that supposed to mean?!” She said with irritation feigned to be more than is actually was.  
“Nothing!” He laughed. “It’s just...I don’t know, with how you act, it seems like you’re still trying to escape the restrictions of your past...I mean, believe it or not, pretty much all my band members come from strict upbringings like you, as do I for that matter. So I’ve seen it a lot, but as I’ve learned, rebellion comes in many forms.” He paused. Ayako remaining silent. “But. For some reason, I feel like you might be running from more than just your parents.”  
Her breath caught in her chest, eyes shooting open. Was she really that obvious? Her defiance of her fear, manifested in her temper, ego and sly tongue. But here with Houshou, it felt like he was slowly peeling away every calloused layer of skin. It hurt.  
“What makes you say that?” She almost growled.  
“Dunno. Just a theory if you will. Little things I noticed about how particular you can be sometimes about your appearance, but.” She saw his brows knit together. “When it really comes down to it, you throw those things away like they’re not really a part of you.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s stupid but, I knew a lot of girls in high school, who changed once they got boyfriends. Suddenly wearing tons of make-up and shit like that. But if, like, for my friend Akana, once she got a guitar in her hands again. She transformed. Becoming herself again.” He sighed. “I’m probably over-analysing things though. There are a lot of things that don’t add up. You probably just think I’m creepy.”  
“N-no.” She managed to whisper.  
Monk started. “Whoa. Sorry, that, that just didn’t really sound like you for a second.”  
“Eyes on the road.” She reminded him as he almost ran a light.  
“Oh. Sorry.” After a short silence. Ayako spoke up.  
“Okay. I don’t really want to get into my past right now, but, let’s just say, I definitely know the difference now between obsession and love.” Her eyes closed, arms wrapping around herself. He took that cue to place a hand on her shoulder while they waited for the light to turn.  
“Sorry if I brought up bad memories. But, you can tell me if you need to. I won’t judge you.” He flashed her one of his really luminous grins. The kind that caused her skin to writhe in bright red hues underneath her make-up. She turned away to look out the window as they started moving again. Not that there was anything new to see. She was just embarrassed.  
She wanted to tell him. And maybe someday she’d actually get up the courage to do so.  
“Hey.” Monk said over a particularly energetic chorus. “We’re almost there!” He said brightly. She nodded in acknowledgement.  
“Hey...who did you say this was again?” Something about the music pulled her in. It was broad and intricate with complicated form and rhythms.  
“Dream Theatre.” He said triumphantly. “Pretty awesome, huh?” She made a note to stop by a record store sometime.  
They were silent for a while more. Monk navigating their way into the crowded downtown area.  
“Yeah, we’d better just walk from here. Parking’s gonna be a nightmare.”  
“Yeah. I’m sure.” She gave a grateful sigh, as he parked and they exited the car. The two of them walking side by side. She kept her face down, glancing up at him intermittently, until a sudden body thrust her off her balance, to impact against his side.  
“Hey! You okay?”  
“Yeah. Some asshole nearly knocked me over.” She glared behind them.  
“Don’t get too mad!”  
She didn’t reply. Nor did she bring attention to how she had surreptitiously linked her arm with his. Struggling to regain her normal saunter. But with how exposed she felt, the crowd around her felt toxic.  
Monk’s gaze rested heavily on her. “...you’re sure you’re okay?”  
“...yeah.” She muttered. Hardly audible over the murmur of their surroundings.  
He decided to swallow his words again. Maybe when he got her to a more comfortable state, she’d be able to speak her mind. He also observed how she seemed...congested. Whatever she was hiding seemed to affect everything about her. Someone who valued honesty and justice, but also had a kind heart; was reduced to the caricature of a poseur. If his theory about some shitty ex-boyfriend was correct, he vowed to personally beat the shit out of him for the permanent scars that were left behind.  
As they will always heal in time, but, the damage never truly goes away.


End file.
